UC-NRLF 


I 


Thirty 
Sonnets  of  Passion 


EMMET   PENDLETON 


GIFT  OF 


Thirty  Sonnets  of  Passion 


BY 

EMMET  PENDLETON 

author  of 
"Twenty  Sonnets  to  California" 


RED     BLUfF.      CAL. 

WM.     M.     ALLEN 

1913 


COPYRIGHT 

EMMET    PENDLETON 

1913 


FOREWORD 

The  title  of  this  collection  of  sonnets  is  some 
what  misleading  in  that  the  word  "passion"  does 
not  express  the  entire  meaning  that  is  wished  to  be 
conveyed  to  the  reader.  Its  meaning  is  more  than 
that  of  worldly  emotions;  it  contains  the  thought 
of  a  loving  soul  brimful  of  pleasure,  the  highest 
idealism  of  friendship,  a  soaring  freedom  from  the 
mediocrity  of  life.  Volumes  and  volumes  have  been 
written  on  the  subject  of  love,  but  yet,  as  love  is  so 
universal,  volumes  still  can  be  written  and  enjoyed, 
>o  I  feel  1  am  not  overburdening  the  subject  with 
my  few  atoms  of  thoughts,  and  take  this  privilege  to 
publish  these  sonnets  in  my  appreciation  of  the 
feminine. 

To  my  friends,  who  may  read  these  pages,  1 
wish  to  state,  that  1  would  prefer  they  would  attach 
no  significance  of  their  contents  with  my  life.  1 
know  that  there  is  a  streak  of  curiosity  in  the 
world,  and  such  no  doubt  would  add  an  interest  to 


the  poems.  I  have  lived  them,  yes  each  of  them, 
and  my  sympathetic  nature  made  me  feel  each 
word,  but  I  lived  them  as  any  poet  does  his  writ 
ings,  in  that  vast  world  of  imagination. 


Emmet  Pendleton 


Red  Bluff,   California, 

June  21,   1912 


CONTENTS 

1.  To  My  Love 

2.  To  Love  in  May 

3.  To  Sweet  Content 

4.  To  a  Sweetheart 

5.  To  Pleasure 

6.  To  a  Memory 

7.  To  Telepathy 

8.  To  Sweetheart  Days 

9.  To  Bacchus 

10.  To  a  Kiss 

11.  To  a  Woman 

12.  To  a  Dream 

13.  To  a  Sick  Friend 

14.  To  a  Maiden 

15.  To  a  Friend 


CONTENTS 

16.  To  Exislence 

17.  To  a  Friend 

18.  With  Flowers 

19.  To  a  Waltz 

20.  To  the  Wine 

21 .  To  a  Snake 

22.  To  a  Sylph 

23.  To  the  Soul  of  a  Rose 

24.  To  My  Cigarette  Girl 

25.  With  Candy 

26.  To  a  Picture 

27.  To  Eros 

28.  To  Sleep 

29.  To  a  Friend  in  the  Southland 

30.  To  Some  Friends 


I 
TO  MY  LOVE 

My  dear  one,  can't  you  hear  the  wood-dove  coo 
Unto  his  mate  on  yonder  greenwood  hill, 
And  break  the  calm  of  eventide  so  still 

With  declarations  of  his  love  so  true? 

My  dear  one,  oh,  if  you  but  only  knew 
The  tender,  longing  passions  that  thus  fill 
His  heart,  your  entire  being  would  so  thrill 

With  love,  your  very  soul  would  burn  in  you. 

I  feel  it  all.      My  being,  too,  does  cry 

The  same;  deep  buried  feelings  are  set  free; 
1  worry  not;  your  eyes  display  a  glow 

Of  promise,  so  my  heart  in  joy  leaps  high; 
I  am  so  happy  that  I  ache  in  glee, 

I  know  you  feel  it  all,  I  know  you  know. 


I! 

TO  LOVE  IN  MAY 

Oh,  what's  so  lovely,  love,  as  love  in  May 
When  all  the  year  is  fresh  and  in  its  prime, 
When  Nature  is  all  budding  forth  sublime 

With  newborn  feelings,  surging  blithe  and  gay, 

When  everything  that's  joyous  does  hold  sway 
And  rules  and  sweeps  away  the  Winter's  slime, 
When  birds  all  sing  and  praise  the  joyous  time? 

Ch,  what's  so  lovely,  love,  as  love  in  May? 

Each  bird  has  mated  now  and  builds  a  nest, 
Each  tree  is  blossoming  its  fruit  to  bear, 
Each  seed  is  sprouting,  starting  life  anew. 

Each  cloud  reverts  to  earth  to  do  its  best, 
And  Nature  rules  all  with  a  mother's  care, 
So  why  should  1  not  tell  my  love  to  you? 


Ill 
TO  SWEET  CONTENT 

She  taught  to  me  the  beauties  of  the  night, 
The  romance  of  the  morning  hours  tranquil, 
When  all  the  mighty  city  slumbers  still, 

So  still  in  fading  rays  of  pale  moonlight, 

She  showed  me  grandeur  in  the  faint  starlight, 
Whose  twinkling  mission  seemed  so  bent  to  fill 
My  entire  being  with  a  rapt'rous  thrill, 

To  live  and  thus  enjoy  the  wond'rous  sight. 

It  was  a  lesson  truly  worth  the  while, 

To  know  that  sweet  content  was  bliss,  to  find 
A  pleasure  in  the  cool  night  air,  and  give 

Response,  to  let  the  time  pass  o'er  the  dial 
With  only  one  great  thought  upon  the  mind. 
To  live,  to  live,  to  live  and  love  to  live. 


IV 

TO  A  SWEETHEART 

I  ponder  o'er  some  sweetheart  letters  dear, 
Before  the  fire-place's  burning  ember  glow, 
And  with  relentless  fascination  slow 

Burn  them  to  end  a  by-gone-day  career; 

The  burning  words,  that  I  once  thought  sincere, 
So  heat  my  burdened  mind  to  not  allow 
My  false  forsaken  love  to  lay  alow, 

And  soothe  my  passions,  now  a  parclmess  sear. 

Those  letters  were  to  me  a  great  delight, 

That  carved  themselves  deep  down  into  my  heart, 
And  breathed  the  gentle  breath  of  perfect  love; 

But  circumstances  came  and  struck  with  might 
Our  loves  asunder,  and  has  caused  the  smart 
To  stop  the  cooing  of  the  turtle  dove. 


V 

TO  PLEASURE 

Since  reasons  for  our  life  we  can  not  say, 

Know  not  why  we  came  here,  or  why  we  go. 
Or  why  a  loadstone  burden  bends  us  low, 

Why  not  let  gentle  winds  cast  far  away 

Those  memories  that  haunt  of  yesterday, 
And  truly  live  to  let  the  red  wine  flow 
To  drown  ambition's  tendril,  that  would  grow, 

And  spoil  another  sweet  enjoyment  gay? 

Real  pleasure  is  so  sweet,  so  scarce,  so  dear; 
Each  moment's  filled  with  some  exertion  great 
To  make  our  joy  in  atoms  to  be  found; 

Ancl  while  our  mind  should  be  in  calm  sincere, 
We  rush  in  the  unkown  at  such  a  rate, 
To  lose  the  little  joy  that  lies  around. 


VI 

TO  A  MEMORY 

It  now  seems  but  a  dream  dreamt  one  Spring  night, 
That  time  when  nature  bursts  all  forth  anew, 
So  fresh  and  joyous  in  the  year's  first  dew, 

And  ihrills  ambition  by  her  glorious  sight, 

When  we,  ah  we,  with  buoyant  feelings  light, 
So  idly  wander' d  where  the  wild  flov/'rs  grew, 
And  whisper'd  loving  words  no  one  e'er  knew, 

And  felt  our  hearts  so  charmed  in  true  delight. 

Sweet  memory,  so  bitter  and  so  harsh, 
All    that  I  now  have  left  this  winter  day, 

Will  you  forsake  me  as  quick  fleeting  Youth, 

Leave  me  so  deep  in  cruel  Despond's  marsh? 
Since  all  in  Nature  must  in  time  decay, 

Are  you  like  it?     Yd  like  to  know,  forsooth! 


VII 

TO  TELEPATHY 

I  so  enjoy  to  live  when  you're  near  me; 

My  blood  flows  so  much  warmer  through  its  vein, 

My  heart  beats  fast  with  palpitations  fain 
To  animate  my  being  truly  free; 
My  thoughts  rush  on  in  wildest  kind  of  glee. 

And  bring  real  joy,  again  and  yet  again. 

And  why  all  this?      I  ask  but  not  in  vain. 
1  find  our  souls  vibrate  in  harmony. 
But  ah,  to-morrow,  when  our  ways  must  part, 

For  Fate  gave  you  a  lonely  mountain  peak 

And  left  the  heated  desert  sands  to  me, 

But  there's  one  solace  for  my  breaking  heart, 

While  I'm  with  those  who  never  of  you  speak, 
Telepathy  will  aid  my  memory. 


VIII 

TO  SWEETHEART  DAYS 

In  restaurants  amid  a  jolly  cheer, 
1  often  ate  with  you,  my  pretty  girl, 
While  fervent  passions  deep  my  heart  would  dirl 

Without  a  fear,  then  with  attentive  ear 

Could  nothing  hear,  but  whisper' d  love  words  dear, 
That  caused  my  laden  spirit  to  unfurl 
Expressions  of  my  brain  in  dizzy  whirl, 

Until  we  knew  not  morning's  hours  so  near. 

But  those  were  sweetheart  days.      Another  now 
Is  dear  to  you  and  we  are  far  apart; 

Yet  good,  our  thoughtless  way  gave  model  fine 

To  that  unmindful  populace  who  know 
Naught  else  but  clatter  accusations  smart, 
And  follow  in  the  degradation  line. 


IX 

TO  BACCHUS 

Ye,  son  of  Semele,  ye  god  of  wine, 

Who  on  a  lynx  about  the  world  does  flee 
Declaring  peace  and  making  all  carefree, 

Oh,  let  me  kneel  and  worship  at  your  shrine. 

Accept  with  love  this  ivy  twig  of  mine, 
A  gift  so  small  to  you,  but  yet  to  me 
So  much;  entwine  it  in  your  crown  with  glee 

In  sweet  remembrance,  mighty  god  divine. 

You'r  worthy  of  my  homage,  Bacchus  great; 
For  what  would  this  existance  be  without 

That  peace  and  joy  in  which  you  do  abound/ 

The  drudg'ry  of  it  all  one  ne'er  could  state, 
If  we  could  not  enjoy  a  merry  bout; 

So  always  with  Bacchanals  I'll  be  found. 


X 
TO  A  KISS 

Caressingly  I  pressed  her  to  my  breast, 

Ashamed  to  think  how  thoughtless  I  had  been, 
And  tremblingly  I  whispered  all  my  sin; 

My  entire  degradation  I  confessed. 

And  she,  so  pure,  with  godliness  so  blessed, 
Forgave;  our  hearts  beat  wild  in  joyous  din, 
And  tears  soon  fled  to  let  the  love-light  in; 

\Ve  kissed,  and  for  the  moment  found  sweet  rest, 

The  time  was  short,  but  yet  within  that  time 

An  age  was  lived,  great  mighty  worlds  were  made, 
A  past,  so  dark  and  harsh,  was  swept  away; 

The  earth  was  made  a  heaven  quite  sublime, 
And  I  felt  hope  and  faith  would  never  fade, 
Since  Eros'  mighty  power  thus  held  sway. 


XI 

TO  A  WOMAN 

She's  just  a  woman  with  a  shriveled  soul, 
Who  lives  so  lonely  the  unhappy  days, 
And  looks  upon  the  world  in  selfish  gaze, 

Through  beaded  eyes  of  the  secluded  mole; 

Her  mind  is  fixed  for  just  one  purpose  sole, 
To  change  to  godliness  her  mundane  ways, 
So  she  can  pluck  the  sweet  Eternal  lays 

Upon  a  harp.     To  me  it  is  so  droll! 

1  truly  pity  her  with  all  my  heart, 

To  think  she  is  so  centered  all  in  self, 
To  let  her  hours  in  idleness  beguile, 

And  in  the  worldly  scheme  not  take  a  part, 
To  help  encourage,  and  cut  down  the  pelf, 
And  make  our  living  truly  worth  the  while. 


XII 

TO  A  DREAM 

I'm  thinking,  dear,  of  you  as  hours  go  by, 

These  long  and  tiresome  hours  when  1  am  through 
With  day's  hard  work  and  have  naught  else  to  do 

But  dream,  and  dream;  and  with  a  rnoisten'd  eye, 

And  with  a  soul  that  does  for  freedom  cry, 
1  picture  all  the  hours  I  spent  with  you, 
And  planned  our  lives  with  loving  words  so  true, 

But  such  was  not  to  be.      I  heave  a  sigh. 

My  wishes  are  wherever  you  may  be, 

That  you  are  happy,  dear,  in  sweet  content, 
Enjoying  days  without  a  single  strife, 

And  of  the  tiresome  world  of  cares  are  free, 
That  Time  your  loveliness  will  never  rent; 
I  would  not  have  one  thing  mar  your  dear  life. 


Xill 

TO  A  SICK  FRIEND 

Why  can  our  spirits  not  fly  far  away, 

These  muchly  treasured  so  called  souls  take  flight, 
And  drifting  in  the  arms  of  Somnus  light, 

Thus  leave  this  weak  infested  chunk  of  clay? 

For  here  affliction  taunts  us  day  by  day, 
While  fever  wastes  us  to  a  hcary  sight. 
And  melts  the  life  and  clay  together  tight, 

Until  the  promised  hope  grows  dim  and  gray. 

But  yet.  the  Potter  is  so  good  and  just  . 

He  loves  his  children  with  a  heart  so  dear, 
Oh.  burning  sarcasm!      He  made  the  world, 

To  fill  some  clay  with  animated  lust, 

Then  left  us  blinded  with  a  saddened  tear. 
To  end  a  bursting  bubble  madly  hurfd 


XIV 

TO  A  MAIDEN 

She  seemed  to  me  as  sweetest  eglantine, 

A  dainty  flower  fresh  with  Springtime's  dew, 
So  beaming  in  the  rarest  beauties  true, 

And  qualities  so  very  superfine; 

That  to  give  voice  as  thus  I  should  decline, 
For  I  could  never  state  in  words  so  few 
The  pleasures  of  the  moment  that  I  knew, 

Because  the  poets  part  was  never  mine. 

Howe'er  the  bush  has  thorns.     This  dainty  flower 
Is  favored  with  a  well  protected  life, 

But  yet,  perhaps,  some  one  with  heart  so  free, 

In  knowing  way  can  pluck  it  from  its  bower 
Unheeding  of  a  struggle  or  a  strife, 

But  such,  I  feel  was  never  meant  for  me. 


XV 

TO  A  FRIEND 

So  happy  did  we  meet  upon  that  tram, 
As  if  by  Providence,  you  will  agree. 
And  surely  happy  have  we  been;  so  we 

While  looking  on  our  sorrows  in  disdain, 

The  good  old  friendship  dram  can  fully  drain 
So  that  we  happy  thus  may  part  in  glee, 
With  happy  hopes  that  circumstance  will  be, 

That  we  shall  very  happy  meet  again. 

Because  we  lived  in  San  Francisco  dear, 
And  had  a  mutual  acquaintance  there, 

Although  the  time  is  short  that  I've  know  n  you. 

It  seems  we  have  been  friends  from  year  to  year, 

And  as  we  part  you  have  God's  speed  in  prayer. 
With  hope  our  friendship  lasts  our  whole  life  through. 


XVI 

TO  EXISTENCE 

We  come,  we  go,  yet  we  do  not  know  how, 
The  griefs,  regrets,  of  yesterday  give  thought, 
With  which  our  overladen  minds  are  wrought, 
And  add  unto  that  strife,  to  which  we  bow 
To-day  in  servitude  with  hopes  to  sow 

To-morrow,  when  light's  halo  glimmers  naught 
Than  that  dear  future  satisfaction  sought 
In  vainly  cherished  hopes  in  what  we  grow. 
So  nil  a  brimming  cup  with  pleasure's  wine 
And  drink  quite  deeply  foi  it  is  but  strife, 

That  haunts  our  joys  each  day  until  we  find, 
Existence  is  a  movement  of  great  time. 

That  comes  and  goes,  and  truly  makes  this  life 
Be  to  all  else  but  now,  the  present,  blind. 


XVII 

TO  A  FRIEND 

How  few  of  all  the  million  people  here. 
That  live  so  scattered  all  about  this  earth. 
Can  speak  one's  name  in  sadness  or  in  mirth, 

Or  know  of  one  in  just  acquaintance  mere; 

How  few  acquaintances  do  prove  sincere, 
So  each  may  last  forever  from  its  birth, 
And  with  a  great  distinction  gam  the  girth, 

That  joins  each  other  as  true  friends  sincere. 

One's  true  friends  are  so  few.  Should  one  want  more? 
The  universal  ways  do  not  demand 

So  many.      Yet  stay  by  those  that  are  true. 

For  there  are  pleasing  pleasures  quite  galore 
To  grasp  these  few  so  tightly  by  the  hand, 

And  feel  the  pulse  of  friendship  strong  and  true. 


XViil 

WITH  FLOWERS  AT  COMMENCEMENT 

Those  dear  sweet  peas  are  still  held  dear  by  me, 
Which  you  gave  me  upon  my  concert  night, 
That  now  with  joy  I  choose  sweet  wiiliams  white 

Not  merely  as  an  act  of  courtesy, 

For  manner's  sake  without  a  heart-felt  glee, 
But  hope  to  bring  to  you  a  gladness  bright, 
And  make  your  soul  as  quite  extremely  light 

As  1  was  so  o'ercome  by  each  sweet  pea. 

Since  now  that  you  commence  on  life's  long  way, 
I  truly  wish  it  were  within  my  power 
To  help  diminish  all  that  irksome  strife. 

That  you  will  find  a-front  you  day  by  day, 
By  plucking  thus  in  all  the  world  each  flower 
To  spread  before  you  on  your  path  of  life. 


XIX 

TO  A  WALTZ 

It  was  such  joy!      1  could  not  other  deem 
Than  it  was  fairyland  of  magic  spell; 
1  felt  her  arm  on  mine,  a  soft  faint  smell 

Of  perfume  waft  me  off  into  a  dream; 

I  saw  within  her  dark  brown  eyes  a  gleam 
That  told  a  story  words  could  never  tell, 
And  caused  the  passion  of  my  soul  to  swell; 

So  thus  we  danced  a  most  enchanting  theme. 

She  knew  that  for  the  instant  she  was  mine, 

That  I  belonged  to  her;  the  world  knew  naught, 
For  it  in  harshest  cruelty  had  sieved 

Our  past  with  an  attention  superfine, 

And  drove  off  hope.   No  future  could  be  wrought. 
So  for  the  moments  of  that  waltz  we  lived. 


XX 

TO  THE  WINE 

The  wine  seems  redder  now  than  e'er  before, 
One  dampened  kiss  would  never  satisfy 
My  heart's  desire,  so  I  thus  truly  try 

To  drown  you  in  sweet  kisses  quite  galore, 

And  hug  you  tighter,  kissing  you  still  more; 
For  there's  a  fiercest  passion  in  your  eye, 
The  animal,  that  staunchly  does  defy 

The  world,  and  makes  me  you  with  love  adore. 

You're  mine!  You're  mine!   My  heart  so  wildly  beats, 
For  the  red  wine  electrifies  my  brain 

And  dazzles  me  with  joy;  yet  1  know  this. 

We  live  in  love;  so  what  if  old  Time  fleets 
In  flying  moments,  since  we  live  so  fain, 
So  happy,  oh,  so  happy  in  this  bliss. 


XXI 
TO  A  SNAKE 

1  felt  his  breath  upon  my  fevered  cheek, 

His  flesh  was  cold  on  mine.      His  naked  arm 
Encircled  me.      My  passion  had  its  barm. 

His  eye  revealed  a  glowing  brutal  streak. 

An  eye  that  once  was  truthful  and  so  meek. 

Methought,  could  those  sharp  fangs  of  poison  harm 
Me  any?     Then  I  trembled  with  alarm! 

Of  my  fierce  agonies  1  should  not  speak. 

How  hard  1  tried  to  cut  off  from  that  wrong. 

That  vampire,  who  had  lived  on  blood  from   me, 
The  degradation  that  did  so  annoy, 

And  caused  such  horrid  thoughts  my  brain  to  throng, 
But  mighty  courage  finally  set  me  free. 
And,  oh,  this  freedom  how  I  do  enjoy. 


XXII 

TO  A  SYLPH 

How  I  would  like  to  drift  on  yonder  cloud, 
Be  carried  far  off  from  this  toilsome  land, 
Be  first  at  morning  time  of  all  the  band 

To  get  Aurora's  kiss,  to  be  allow'd 

To  rove  the  skies  all  day  a  king  so  proud, 
And  then  at  eventide  by  winds  be  fann'd 
Into  the  west  to  see  those  splendors  grand 

With  which  the  great  Apollo  is  endow'd. 

But  when  the  rains  did  come  and  set  me  free, 

For  this  dear  earth  must  have  the  warmSpring  showers, 
What  then,  ah  me,  what  then  would  be  my  lot? 

As  second  choice  a  fairy  I  would  be, 

To  live  contented  with  the  ferns  and  flopvers 
That  grow  secluded  in  some  garden  spot. 


XXIII 

TO  THE  SOUL  OF  A  ROSE 

Why  throw  the  rose  into  the  angry  flame 
So  thoughtlessly,  to  utterly  destroy 
A  thing  that  made  your  heart  so  thrill  with  joy, 

Because  its  beauty  now  is  not  the  same 

As  once?      But  oh,  the  fose  is  not  to  blame 
That  dawn  of  youth,  which  pleases  us  to  toy, 
Must  change  to  snarly  age  to  thus  annoy. 

That  Time's  keen  scythe  must  cut  and  make  life  tame. 

Oh,  can  a  soul  lose  its  celestial  light, 

When  it  so  shows  the  wear  of  Time's  deep  worth 
Of  mundane  toil  to  make  appearance  droll? 

For  me  cremation,  I  believe,  is  nght, 
But  let  the  rose  decay  into  the  earth, 
Regenerate  another  flower's  soul. 


XXIV 

TO  MY  CIGARETTE  GIRL 

From  this  dear  pleasure  1  could  ne'er  redeem 
Myself,  if  I  posessed  a  giant's  might, 
For  this  aroma  makes  an  eremite 

To  joy  of  me  and  wafts  to  lands  of  dream, 

Where  true  imagination  reigns  supreme, 

To  those  far  lands  beyond  the  stars'  faint  light, 
That  ne'er  reflect  the  cares  of  earthly  light, 

And  only  of  sweet  rest  and  joy  do  gleam. 

But,  ah,  to-night  one  pleasure  is  amiss, 
The  cigarette  does  not  my  passions  greet 

As  once  in  curls  and  whirls  of  smoke  so  blue 

What  makes  this  change?  Why  not  the  old^ime  blj 
Your  kiss  is  gone  that  made  the  savor  sweet; 
So  in  remembrance  now  I  smoke  to  you. 


XXV 

WITH  CANDY 

In  Mount  Olympus*  palace  of  the  Great, 
Surrounded  by  the  clouds  of  fleecy  down, 
With  nectar  sweet  they  washed  ambrosia  down 

Contentedly  at  night  while  hours  grew  late; 

They  there  of  only  joy  did  contemplate, 
Each  free  and  happy  as  a  joyous  clown. 
And  on  the  sordidness  of  life  would  frown; 

For  they  loved  happiness,  their  only  fate. 

1  wish  these  sweets  were  sweet  ambrosia  rare, 
And  unto  you  an  endless  joy  present. 

Much  like  the  gods  found  in  their  favored  mess 

To  cause  you  to  forget  the  daily  snare, 
By  which,  one  finds,  is  Life  so  often  rent, 
And  give  a  good  long  life  of  happiness. 


XXVI 

TO  A  PICTURE 

It's  just  a  common  picture  of  a  girl, 

But  yet  no  common  girl,  here  let  me  state, 
For  I  could  ne'er  let  one  thus  underrate 

A  person,  rare  as  perfect  deep-sea  pearl. 

Her  beaming  face  and  each  familiar  curl 
Recall  that  happy  time  I  did  relate 
My  love,  and  hoped  she'd  be  my  life-long  mate; 

How  sacred  was  my  promise  to  that  girl. 
But  that  dark  angel  of  the  Stygian  brmk 
Took  her  away,  a  candle  in  a  gust, 

1  mourned.  The  Lord  should  take  those  black  with  sin, 

The  good  will  better  things,  thus  did  I  think. 
So  godly  pure,  a  great  reward  she  must 

Have  ta'en,  for  it  could  not  have  other  been. 


XXVII 

TO  EROS 

Methinks  you're  not  as  blind  as  you  appear, 
But  have,  forsooth,  disguised  your  wily  port, 
To  make  Life's  Way  seem  honest  for  your  sport 

And  be  amused  in  what  we  think  sincere; 

If  blind,  why  shoot  so  straight  without  a  fear, 
For  we  are  unprotected  'gainst  your  fort, 
And  must  succumb  unto  whatever  sort 

You  shoot,  if  it  be  lead  or  gold  so  dear 

Oh,  son  of  Venus,  ruler  of  Love's  Glen, 
'Tis  you  that  adds  the  essence  to  our  Fate, 
For  in  your  hand  is  placed  the  guiding  rein 

Of  all  the  world;  you  rule  the  hearts  of  men; 
So  deeply  think,  and  wisely  contemplate 
To  justly  rule,  dear  Eros,  while  you  reign. 


XXVI11 

TO  SLEEP 

I'm  drifting,  drifting  off  to  slumber-land. 

Unto  those  distant  realms  where  Somnus  rules, 
And  with  a  magic  poppy-scepter  cools, 

And  lulls  the  anguished  mind  in  manner  bland: 

By  mighty  columns  made  of  horn  so  grand, 
With  fiercest  care  in  worthy  words  he  duels, 
Of  truest  wisdom  of  the  Lethian  schools, 

Of  sleepy  pleasures  of  his  foreign  strand. 

And  oh,  what  happiness  is  in  it  all, 

For  soon,  so  soon  dear  dreams  I'm  sure  to  dream, 
For  it's  with  such  that  sweetest  sleep  is  blest, 

So  in  fair  dreams  I'll  hear  your  loving  call, 

And  see  your  amorous  eyes  with  sparkles  glearn; 
It  will  be  joy,  and  in  true  peace  we'll  rest. 


XXIX 

TO  A  FRIEND  IN  THE  SOUTHLA 

1  see  the  orange  and  the  pepper  tree. 
The  jacaranda  with  its  chist'rous  bloom 
The  palm,  and  smell  acacia's  quaint  perfume. 

Behold  hibiscus  flow'rs.     1  dream  and  see 

The  earth  at  rest  in  calm  tranquility 

In  noonday's  heating  sun,  and  I  presume 
How  happy  1  would  be  to  'gain  resume 

That  life  of  happy  days  so  good  to  me. 

And  in  it  all  I  see  one  face  and  hear 

One  voice.      It  is  your  face.      It  is  your  voice. 
They  beckon  on  to  dream's  eternity. 

And  1  dream  happily  of  hours  so  dear 
Dream  on  and  on  without  another  choice. 

It's  grand  to  dream!  My  dreams  are  worlds  to  me. 


XXX 

TO  SOME  FRIENDS 

We  met  and,  oh,  how  happy  have  we  been! 

But  now  the  Sage  of  Time  says  we  must  part. 

Oh,  argue  not,  in  grace  we  must  depart 
Upon  our  ways,  despite  the  great  chagrin 
That  makes  all  life  a  dream  in  sadden  din. 

Yet  it  is  hard  to  meet  the  end  and  part 

From  that  we  love.      Ah  me,  the  painful  smart 
Most  breaks  my  heart.      It  seems  a  mighty  sin. 
No  more,  no  more, the  truths  of  flying  time! 

An  end  must  always  come,  an  end,  the  end; — 

The  words  are  footsteps  in  a  vacant  room, 
That  send  a  shuddering  echo  of  their  crime, 

They  give  no  future  hope  they  can  defend. 
The  sorry  trade,  the  doleful  trade  of  gloom! 


YB   I  1 886 


272989 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


•- 


